To where you are
by steffy2106
Summary: Post HLV. A series of One-Shot on the development of Sherlolly relationship. Covers all the milestones of their relationship. Warning: Character death.
1. Prologue

**A.N: **Hey guys!  
Here is a short Sherlolly story I wrote. It's a series of one-shot. Anyways let me know what you think.

A big thank you to a.e 90 for proofreading the story.

Warning: Character death.

Steffy2106

**Prologue: **

Sherlock was hurrying through the busy London streets**,** fastening his Belfast to protect himself from the cold February wind.

He arrived to _**Vive la Rose** _flower shop at 8:30 am sharp, just as the owner opened the door.

"Ah**,** Mr**.** Holmes**,** right on time as every year. Please come in, your flowers have just been delivered."

Sherlock looked around the store while the old man arranged the bouquet.

"Those purple primroses are particularly beautiful**.** I'm sure your wife will appreciate them even more than usual."

Sherlock looked down at the gold band on his ring finger and twisted it around.

"Yes**,**" he replied, as he turned around and extended his credit card.

"Is there anything else you want with these flowers? The usual card?"

"Yes**.** Just say**,** '_Dearest Molly, ten years already and I still love you like when we first kissed. Yours always**,** Sherlock'**.**_"

Sherlock looked at his watch as he was exiting the store, right on schedule. He looked down at the flowers**.** They were beautiful, almost as beautiful as the first bouquet he brought for his Molly.

He smiled at the memories, the memories of how Molly Hooper turned his life upside down.


	2. Realization

**A.N:** Since the prologue was minimal I post chapter 1 too. Again thanks to a.e.90 for the hard work on it!

Review and let me know what you think.

Steffy2106

**Realization:**

The way he and Molly became involved had been like a tornado, unexpected and all consuming.

Once Moriarty had reappeared, a team was sent to collect every person Sherlock more or less cared about and they were all taken to a safe room at the Diogenes club.

"Can it be him?" Mary asked with incredulity.

"No, it is impossible. I saw him shoot himself in the head. I was right in front of him; there is no way to fake that. Even someone as bloody brilliant as him couldn't pull that off," Sherlock stated pacing the room. He knew there was some reverence in his voice. Some part of him missed Moriarty as a nemesis; he had been the first one to really match his intelligence.

"We know that Sherlock," Mycroft replied calmly, crossing his arms on his chest. "Doctor Hooper herself performed the autopsy. The man that was on that roof is dead and gone."

Sherlock threw a quick glanced to Molly. He knew she had been involved, obviously as she helped him fake his death, but he didn't expect for her involvement to go any further than that.

"Did you really think her involvement would stop with you disappearing Sherlock?" Mycroft asked sardonically.

Sherlock opened his mouth but closed it again not knowing what to say. Of course he thought it would be all. He did feel a twinge of guilt at the idea of Molly being involved after him leaving. He glanced quickly toward her and saw her looking down at her intertwined hands.

Mycroft snorted. "You did think that didn't you? How absolutely naïve of you!"

Sherlock frowned, hating to be mocked by his older brother in public. "Then why are you keeping us here, fatty? " He asked trying to humiliate his brother in the same way "If Moriarty is dead there is no threat."

"I said the man on the roof was dead. Who said it was Moriarty? It might have been a decoy all along or maybe he was not working alone. Sorry, brother dearest, there are too many variables, too many unknowns to let you out unsupervised."

"You didn't seem to care so much about my safety three hours ago when you put me on the plane to accomplish a mission for MI6 which would have caused my death within 6 months!"

"You sent him to die?!" John gasped. "That is what the long goodbyes were all about?!" John shook his head.

"My choices were limited, John. And all because my brother had to shoot Magnussen for you and your wife, when you were too coward to do it yourself!" Mycroft spat, pointing at John.

"I think we should –" Mary started.

Molly stood briskly making her chair screeched loudly. All the chatter stopped and they all turned to toward her.

"I am at loss here. I guess I'm not part of the team or whatever but I just need to get my head around some things."

She looked calm and composed, maybe too much. Sherlock didn't miss the light shake of her hand, the tightening of her jaw. She was beyond furious but to her credit she was hiding it very well.

Mycroft sighed. "Dr. Hopper I understand your frustration but now is not the time to-"

"Yes it is!" she snapped. "After everything, you owe me this much," she added so coldly that it shut Mycroft up.

Sherlock was both impressed and mesmerized by Molly's reaction. He was used to mousy Molly, pushover Molly. This Molly was new and intriguing.

Mycroft sighed again, adjusting his tie. "What is it you want to know?"

"So let me get this straight. You're the one who killed Magnussen?" She asked turning toward Sherlock.

The detective nodded. His brother and his government friends did a fantastic job hiding the involvement of Sherlock. They had found a scapegoat and made look like a burglary gone wrong. "But you have to know that I did it to keep Mary safe and - "

Molly raised her hand. "Not my question. I don't care."

Sherlock eyebrows shot in surprise. He leaned back on his chair. Where did this tiger come from? This was not the Molly he knew at all.

"And before Moriarty reappeared out of nowhere, you were on your way to a suicide mission."

"I wouldn't put it in so many words - " Sherlock started, somehow at loss of words in front of Molly's bold attitude.

"Please, humour me."

"I guess - " He trailed off.

Molly nodded. "Yes, that's what I thought." She turned to Mycroft. "Am I under arrest?"

Mycroft frowned. "Why on earth would you be under arrest? You are here merely out of concern for your safety."

Molly nodded reaching of her jacket. "Well thank you for the concern but I will be fine. I have work to do, and people counting on me."

"Molly, don't be ridiculous, your patients are dead. "

Molly threw him a glare. "Am I free to go?"

Mycroft nodded. "But please note that once you leave there is no way for me to guarantee your safety."

"Duly noted, I am going to take my chances. Goodbye," she added giving a small smile to Mary and John before leaving the room.

* * *

"That was ridiculous!" Sherlock barked opening the morgue revolving doors, two hours after Molly left the Diogenes club.

Molly didn't even look up from the body she was autopsying.

"Molly, could you just look at me when I'm talking to you?" Sherlock asked with clear annoyance in his voice. He actually didn't like the Molly with spunk so much. He preferred her soft, much more malleable side. "You took an enormous risk going out unprotected."

Molly finally looked up and made a point to look around the room. "I don't see your guards." She reached for her chart and started to scribble in it.

"They are in the corridor; I wanted to talk to you in private. I can't understand why you are so furious at me for killing that man? He was doing things you can't even –"

Molly slammed the chart so loudly on the table it made Sherlock recoil slightly.

"Is it really what you think I mad about?" She shook her head. "Of course I can't condone murder but I can understand it. You are a fierce protector of the people you care about and I know you would stop at nothing to keep them safe."

"So what is your problem? Are you menstruating?"

Molly looked like she was about to punch him, so he took a step back.

"You can walk away. I am safe Sherlock. I don't matter enough to even deserve a goodbye. Even when you thought you were going to die, you didn't even think about telling me goodbye. Moriarty or whoever knows I am not worth much."

Sherlock finally figured it out. "It is what it's all about? Me not telling you goodbye?" He couldn't help but think how stupid it was of her, a simple goodbye. Why did it matter?

"You told me I was the one who mattered the most!" she shouted. He could see she was battling her tears. "You said, you said - " her voice broke. "After we stop Moriarty, we're through. I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"This is ludicrous! You don't just stop being friend with someone Molly!" he barked back angry; angry with the fact she was giving up, angry with the fact it hurt him much more than he thought it could, angry with the fact that her walking away mattered more to him than he anticipated.

"You can and it's not really true anyway. You care so little about me you didn't even think I deserved a goodbye so don't worry too much about it. Unrequited friendship is easily forgettable," Molly added taking direction of her office.

"That's not why I didn't say goodbye," he replied standing in her way. He was not sure why he said that. He didn't even know what he meant by that.

"Why then?" she asked challengingly, drying her tears angrily with the sleeve of her white coat.

Sherlock opened his mouth to answer but nothing came out. She had cornered him.

Molly let out a little humourless laugh. "Yes, that's what I thought. Stay away from me, Sherlock. If not for your sake, do it for me. I need my peace of mind. I just - I just can't do that anymore."

Sherlock looked at the closed office door, not really liking the sentiment of loss he was feeling at this moment. It was something unfamiliar and unpleasant, a weight on his stomach.

And he realized at that moment that if he hadn't said goodbye to her, it wasn't because he forgot or because he thought it was trivial. No it was because he couldn't tell her goodbye, not when he knew he was not to going to come back. No matter how much he wanted to deny it, Molly Hooper was the person who mattered the most.


	3. First Time

**A.N: **Hey guys!

Here come chapter 2, also big thanks to ameerawrites for proofreading this story and HUGE kudos to coolaquariun, librarywitch, Kaz1370, lizaoverthesky, and ajp90 for the reviews.

**First times: **

It took two months for the whole Moriarty issue to be settled. It turned out Moriarty had died on that roof and it was his second in command, Sebastian Moran, who had been acting as puppeteer of a dead man.

During these two months, Sherlock granted Molly her wish and stayed away, keeping tabs on her well being through John and Lestrade.

For the first time in his life, Sherlock really missed someone. She was so close, reachable and yet so far. He had hope that her resolve would crumble, that she would forgive and forget, but she didn't.

She seemed to be more and more determined and now, when he caught her eyes, there was nothing more than sheer indifference in hers.

It was around that time her ex-fiancé entered her life again. As Sherlock suspected, the couple had broken up because of him. Tom, who was to Sherlock one of the stupidest men he ever met, had thought that Molly was still enamoured with Sherlock. Tom had considered three was one too many in a monogamous relationship. He had walked away and Molly hadn't even bothered to try stopping him.

Now, he wanted to give their relationship a second chance. He thought that maybe he had been wrong and Sherlock had been nothing more than a friend.

When John told that to Sherlock, Sherlock played it cool like he didn't care, but there was that burning ball in the pit of his stomach. He guessed it was jealousy but that was a first. He had no idea how to deal with it. The only thing he knew was that he didn't want to lose Molly Hooper and the idea of her in the arms of her Neanderthal ex made his stomach heave.

Sherlock went to the small flower shop by Molly's flat called Vive la Rose and bought the biggest bouquet of purple primroses for Molly knowing they were her favourite flowers.

He had done his research last night. He watched some stupid and useless romantic comedies he knew Molly enjoyed. Based on what he saw, women loved to be wooed with flowers.

"Flowers won't change anything Sherlock," she chastised, standing in front the door, blocking his access. "I appreciate the gesture but we can't be friends anymore I just - "

"It's not that I forgot to say goodbye Molly. It's that I couldn't say goodbye." He pushed the flowers in her arms and slid beside her to enter her flat.

Molly sighed shaking her head. "And why couldn't you say goodbye Sherlock?" she asked from her kitchen, where she was setting the flowers in water. Her tone clearly indicated she expected some stupid excuses.

Sherlock took a deep breath, and turned his back to the kitchen, pretending to look at the books on her shelves. "Because if you had asked me to stay, I would have done it," he replied softly, running his fingers on the binding of the books.

"What do you mean?" He could hear from her voice she was not in the kitchen anymore but standing right behind him.

Sherlock turned around meeting her face full of wonder and, dare he say, hope. "You _are_ the person who matters the most Molly and you shouldn't doubt that, even if I have terrible ways of showing it." He gave her a sheepish smile. "I've never been good with goodbyes Molly, and I just couldn't tell you goodbye, knowing it would be the last time I would see you. I could have said everything was all right. I could have pretended and say goodbye. I could have pretended but you would have known. To my extreme regret you can read me, you can read me better than anyone. Even when I think I can fool the world, I know I can't fool you. You would have known something what wrong and you would have asked me to stay. I would have thrown caution to the wind and caused my own demise. But I would have stayed, for you, with you."

Out of the blue, Molly caught the lapel of his coat and pulled him into a kiss.

What surprised Sherlock was how this kiss felt. He gently wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer.

Sherlock had kissed many women in the course of his life, mostly to get what he wanted. The last one he dated had been Janine, but none of the kisses had felt even remotely as good as the one he was sharing with Molly.

For the first time in his life, he could see the appeal of kissing. He enjoyed it, and he didn't want it to stop. It intrigued him and scared him at the same time.

He let his hands roam under Molly's shirt, touching her soft skin. He realized, as she shuddered under his touch that maybe sex, with Molly, wouldn't be a bad thing to try, to figure what the fuss was all about.

Maybe today was the day to get rid of this virginity his brother mocked so frequently.

And, for the first time in his life, Sherlock allowed himself to go further than he had ever been with a human being. He made love to Molly Hooper.

He was clumsy and uncertain at first, not really sure on how it all should be done. Under her loving words and her encouragement, he became bolder, more confident and, based on her moans, he figured he had been doing something right.

After, they lay together in bed, as the morning sun peeked through the window. Sherlock held Molly close to him, but remained silent.

He didn't know what to say when he didn't even know he felt. He had enjoyed the moment they shared, enjoyed it very much. It had given him a high and content, just as cocaine or solving a case did for him. It was not exactly the same kind of high but it did give him the shot of endorphins he craved.

Sherlock sighed, pulling her closer. He had an addictive personality and he knew he could get addicted to Molly, something he couldn't allow to happen. No matter what people said, solving cases and using cocaine helped him be sharper. He knew that Molly would cloud his judgement, make him dependent, weak in ways he couldn't allow himself to be.

"Molly - " he started not really knowing what or how to say it. He knew it was not her first time but they had just shared something precious, something he didn't want to spoil.

"This can't happen again," she said looking up with a small smile. She didn't seem hurt or even surprised.

Sherlock locked eyes with her; somehow her absence of surprise hurt him. "No, it can't."

She rolled and rested on her back. "I understand; it's alright. I knew it was a one-time thing and I enjoyed it. No regrets."

"How could you know?" he asked, somehow irritated with how well she knew him.

Molly turned to her side and propped herself on her arm. "I know you Sherlock, relationships, they're not your forte." She rested her free hand on his cheek, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb pad.

Sherlock was not used to these gentle gestures, never craved them, and yet he found himself leaning in her touch.

After a little while, Molly let go of his cheek, much to Sherlock's regret. She turned toward the alarm clock.

"Well, I really need to get up now. My shift is starting in a couple of hours." She stood up and Sherlock couldn't help but be mesmerized, following her naked form to the bathroom.

"Oh, and Sherlock," she turned around and smiled at him. "You're forgiven," she added before disappearing in her bathroom.

Sherlock couldn't help but grin at the closed door. Today had been a day full of firsts.


	4. The news

**The news: **

"John, I need to talk to you about something," Sherlock said gravely sitting at John's kitchen table.

John set Anna in her recliner and sat in front of his cup of tea. "What's troubling you mate? Is it about taking Anna with us during investigations? I told you already Mary would kill us if we did that."

"Mary would - " Sherlock raised his eyebrow. "Does that mean you wouldn't be completely opposed to the idea?"

"What?" John shook his head. "No! I mean, yes of course I am opposed to the idea! I can't believe you're asking again."

"But - " Sherlock shook his head. He had come for another issue but, as every time he saw his goddaughter, he got side-tracked. "Anyways, that's not why I am here."

"Thank God for that. What do you need Sherlock?" John asked, reaching for his cup of tea.

"Molly and I had intercourse, of a sexual nature."

John choked on his sip of tea and started to cough, as some of the liquid dripped from his nose. "What? How? What?" he stuttered with surprise.

"Are you dim?"

"No, no it's just - you getting physical with anyone, I just - "

"You just what, John?" Sherlock was getting annoyed. Why did it seem so unbelievable to everyone? Sherlock had remained a virgin by choice.

John cleared his throat, smoothing his tee-shirt soaked with tea. "No, nothing. It just came as a surprise it is all. Neither of you seem very fazed by it."

"Yes, she doesn't seem as though she is" Sherlock asked looking down at his tea.

"Sherlock, are - are _you_ fazed by it?" John asked gently, as if he was talking to a scared animal.

Sherlock looked up and met his eyes. "Does it matter?"

John titled his head from side to side. "It depends."

"On what?"

"On what you want to happen next."

"I just - I don't understand." It was just so frustrating for Sherlock, who was a genius, to not understand the concept of romantic relationship. It was something so easy that even a man as stupid as Anderson managed to have two; if his regular sexual encounters with Sally Donovan counted as a relationship.

John reached over the table and patted his friend's hand, which was curled in a tight fist. "Don't get frustrated Sherlock. I'll help you figure it out. I have experience in this area."

"Are you talking about your multiple failed attempts at relationships? I'm sorry John, but your resume in this area is not brilliant."

"Things were going so well - "

Sherlock sighed. Insults and rebuffs were his defence mechanisms, coming full force. "I'm sorry."

John was momentarily taken aback by Sherlock apology. These were quite rare. "How do you feel about her?"

"I care for her; you know that. She's my friend but - but since it happened, I can't get her out of my head. She is always coming back. It's like – it's like she is hiding in the back of my mind and every time she sees an opportunity she sneaks her way in my conscious mind. But she seems to be okay with it being a one-time thing."

"And are you okay with that?"

"I thought I was," he admitted. "I'm not so sure anymore."

"What do you want from her? I mean, thinking long term. Do you know?"

"I wouldn't mind having coitus with her again."

John winced ever so slightly. "Okay, okay, that is good. But if you ever talk to her, I would avoid opening with that."

"Why? It was lovely; she enjoyed it as much as I did. You should have heard some of the things - "

John raised his hand to stop him. "Don't share the details. I will take your word for it"

"Why does it matter anyways? She might not want anything and this embarrassing conversation we're having will be pointless."

John gave him a small smile. "Oh Sherlock, you are so observant and yet you don't see. Molly wants a relationship with you. Molly has always wanted you, and no matter how much she is trying to convince herself otherwise, she will always want you. That is why her engagement didn't last. It is also why her relationships will always be temporary. She is looking for a you even if she refuses to see it.

Sherlock looked away and nodded. "It is true that I am pretty unique."

"That's an understatement."

Sherlock sighed. "I want- I just want to be with her and see how it works out. See if I like the idea of a relationship." He locked eyes with his best friend. "See if I care enough to make space in my life for her."

John nodded. "By coming to see me, you've already answered that question, Sherlock."

"Did I?"

This was the moment Anna started to cry.

"Go and talk to her, Sherlock." John reached down and held his daughter, rocking her in a pacifying motion. "Molly is patient and reasonable. She knows you inside out. You need to be honest and straight with her. If anyone can handle you it's her."

"That's what makes her so hard to let go," Sherlock admitted.

* * *

Sherlock rehearsed his speech all the way to the morgue from John's house and the more he tried the more he was frustrated. By the time he reached the morgue, the only part he was sure of was the 'Molly, I think we need to talk' bit.

As soon as Molly saw him, she reddened and paled almost instantly.

Sherlock frowned; it was obvious she was hiding something.

"Sh-Sherlock - Just… are you here for a case?"

Sherlock's frown deepened. "Is something wrong?" he asked. Molly was not a blabbering mess around him anymore; she hadn't been for quite a while.

She shook her head, arranging her instruments. "Is there anything you need?"

Sherlock took a deep breath, burying his hands in his coat pocket. "I need to talk to you."

Molly looked up, apprehension written all over her face. "Okay, I'm listening."

"You see – I just, well you know what happened between us, well – no matter how much I wanted It to be a one-time thing it had consequences, I didn't take into account –"

"You know," Molly whispered, eyes wide.

"Know?" Sherlock cocked his head to the side. "Know what?"

Molly opened and closed her mouth a couple of times.

"Stop imitating a goldfish, Molly. What do you think I know?" He asked somehow grateful to have been interrupted during his pathetic attempt of a speech.

"No go on. Sorry - "

"Molly - " Sherlock crossed his arms on his chest. "I can see something is bothering you and obviously it has something to do with us. I will not move until you talk and you know how stubborn I can be."

Molly looked down at her hands twisting them together. "I thought you knew I was -" she whispered.

"You are what Molly?" Sherlock's heart accelerated in his chest. Was his Molly sick? Was something wrong with her? _His_ Molly? Where did that come from?

She looked up, eyes shining with unshed tears. "I'm pregnant."

Sherlock froze as his brain went into overdrive. Pregnant, a child, his and hers, a baby, tears in Molly's eyes, what kind of tears? Happiness? Regrets?

"Sherlock?" She tried taking a tentative step toward him. "Oh Sherlock, I'm so sorry I never should have been so reckless." She added with a sob.

Guilt? She was feeling guilty? Why was that? It was just as much as his fault as it was hers. And it was not someone's fault, not a mistake. Somehow, Sherlock was not scared or horrified at this idea. He was pleased him somehow.

"Sherlock, please say something," she said, her voice breaking and Sherlock realized it all had been an internal monologue.

"How - " He cleared his throat. "How do you feel about that?" he asked.

"You want to know how I feel?"

"Yes of course! Why is that so surprising? And why are you sorry? It's something we did together. You're not to blame."

"Well we did, but you didn't have the experience I have. I should have known better and - "

"Molly, please." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I might have been inexperienced but as you know I am a genius. Believe me, I know how babies are conceived." He smiled at her.

"You are smiling?" she asked with, astonishment.

"Yes, why? What did you expect?"

She shrugged. "To be honest, I expected accusations and you storming off."

Sherlock pondered that for a second. If he were completely honest he himself expected that reaction. "No."

"No?" Molly asked visibly confused

"How do you feel about it Molly?" he asked again, resting his hands on her shoulders.

"I'm…surprised but happy. I always wanted to be a mother, you know, so in the end, it is a good thing."

Sherlock nodded. "I agree."

"You agree?"

"Molly, stop repeating everything I am saying. It's annoying. And yes I agree. I came to tell you that I enjoyed being with you and that I wanted to move forward. The dynamic will be different from now on but – move in with me."

"Move in with you?"

Sherlock gave her a stern look. "This is going to get old quickly."

She shook her head, as if coming out of a daze. "Sorry, I just - this is not you."

"And how do you know? It's not like I have ever been in the similar situation."

"But you don't do relationships."

Sherlock shrugged. "Maybe I do…with you."

"You don't have to ask me to move in with you I - "

"I know I don't. Don't worry Molly; this has nothing to do with the empirical concept of honour. I don't believe in this principle. I am asking you to move in simply because I want to. The flat has been empty and the silence and solitude is heavy. I am curious to see this child develop and I like you Molly. I like you a lot. Plus, you don't have to share my bed if you don't want to."

"Oh, you were planning on bed sharing, were you?" she asked, and he was relieved to see the worry ease from her face.

"Of course, I enjoyed intercourse with you and now the consequences are already in play. I don't see the harm in continuing our activities. But again, if you don't want to I understand."

"Oh, I want to!" she blurted out, before blushing furiously.

Sherlock grinned. "I knew you did."

Molly rolled her eyes. "You're so full of yourself, Sherlock Holmes."

"What else is new?"

Molly rested her hand on her stomach. "Are you sure you don't mind? A baby? It's big, you know."

"I know. I can see how John and Mary struggle, but at least there are two to do it. This child will be unique because it's half me. Plus, I know you will be an amazing mother. With you, I can do it."

"And you really want me to move in."

"Yes, I really do. I'm even ready to welcome the demon cat."

"My cat is not a demon."

"To you maybe. So Molly, are you moving in?" Sherlock was feeling nothing more than excitement at the idea of her moving in.

"Yes, of course I will."

Sherlock leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips before locking eyes with her still flat stomach. "You know Molly, I think this child is very lucky."

Molly took his hand and placed it on her stomach, while resting hers on top. "You know what, I agree."

**Loved this chapter! I love fics when Molly and Sherlock have a baby. I can't wait to see where the story leads **** I'm not sure if you purposely left out the quotation marks or if it was an issue between the formatting of our different computers. **


	5. I Love You

**I Love You: **

"This is driving me insane!" Sherlock shouted, slamming his fist on Lestrade's desk. "This man killed these two children! I know it and you know it!"

"I know Sherlock but what do you want me to do? We have no proof. Find me some evidence and I'll be more than happy to lock him up until he dies."

"Am I really the one who's supposed to do your job?! You are even more useless than I thought you were."

"Sherlock," Lestrade warned him.

"Sorry Greg, you know ever since he found out Molly is pregnant Sherlock is much more sensitive as far as children are concerned and - "

"Why are you trying to make excuses for me? He is the one cocking up! I gave him the killer and I even gave him some evidence."

"Circumstantial evidence Sherlock, it's not enough to have someone jailed." Lestrade replied, opening the file.

"No, but enough to make him confess, if you were half the detective you thought you were."

Lestrade opened his mouth to reply but Sherlock jumped of his chair. He didn't want to hear any more pointless excuses. If they had let him in with the suspect, he would have gotten a confession. He knew that.

"You want evidence? I'll give you evidence!" Sherlock added, before storming out of the office.

* * *

Sherlock was still into a foul mood a few hours later when he walked back to Baker Street. He hadn't found any more hard evidence on the killer. He hoped that tomorrow would bring something or he would have to force Lestrade to let him interrogate the suspect. However, based on the way he acted today, he was not sure Lestrade would let him do that.

Sherlock stopped thinking about his case as soon as he opened the door downstairs and the heavenly smell of food filled his nostrils.

He went upstairs and found Molly working in the kitchen; an apron tightened around herself, her small baby bump barely visible.

She turned around, and even in the mood he was in, he couldn't help but smile at the sight of her. Her ponytail was a crooked mess on top of her head and she had flour on her cheek and nose.

Molly had moved in three months ago and though it had been difficult to share his space, it was also quite nice to have someone here, someone who cared and took care of him.

"Oh Sherlock, hi! I didn't expect you just yet, but dinner is going to be ready soon."

Sherlock looked at the nice table she had set and the numerous pans and pots. "What is going on Molly?" he asked, standing in front of her. He tenderly brought his hand up to remove the flour from her face.

"John called me; he told me you were not having the best of days, so I wanted to do something to cheer you up. I, ummm, called your brother and asked him what your favourite food was and I did my best to cook it!"

Sherlock leaned in and pecked her lips quickly. "Just seeing you is enough to cheer me up, Molly. Just knowing that you both are here," he said resting his hand on her stomach, "is enough to make me smile."

Molly smiled coyly. "Still, I wanted to do something nice."

"And I appreciate it, but I think you wasted a call," Sherlock replied, walking back to the main room while taking his coat off. "Mycroft has no idea of what I like or don't like. He doesn't care enough to know."

"Beef stroganoff and strawberry tart?" Molly asked from the kitchen.

_Damn, he did know,_ Sherlock cursed mentally.

"Sherlock?" she called from the kitchen.

Sherlock came back and pouted like a child. "Okay, maybe he knew that."

Molly laughed, while stirring the noodles. "I'll tell you what I told you before Sherlock, your brother loves you and cares for you. You're just too stubborn to see it."

Sherlock sighed, coming to stand beside her, peeking at the beef while inhaling the scent. "Too much has happened. It's too late."

"It's never too late Sherlock, as long as there is life, there is hope." She shook her head knowing the argument was pointless, she decided to change the subject. "It's not completely ready yet but just try that." She took a teaspoon and scooped a piece of beef and sauce from the pan. "Tell me what you think."

Sherlock couldn't help but moan at the taste explosion from the stroganoff. It was probably the best he ever had. He looked down at a smiling and expectant Molly and he realized, at that moment, how far she was ready to go to make him happy. Molly was not a chef and yet she left work early, contacted his despicable brother, got all the ingredients and worked hard to prepare a meal. Nobody ever worked so hard to make him happy and his heart swelled at the thought of having her in his life.

"I love you," he blurted out, realizing how deeply he meant that.

"Sherlock?" She seemed confused and he couldn't blame her. She had been living with him for 3 months, sharing his bed every night, making love with him and yet he never had said that he loved her before.

She took a tentative step toward him. "You don't have to - "

"I know, but I do, I really do. I love you Molly." He walked to her and trapped her face in his long hands. "I love you." He kissed her forehead. "I love you." He kissed her nose. "I love you." He kissed her lips. "I." Kiss "Love." Kiss. "You." Kiss

"I love you too," she replied with the brightest smile he had ever seen on her. What made him happier was that he was the reason behind this smile.

Sherlock had known Molly loved him for weeks now. She had whispered it in her sleep one night and it had been the most beautiful thing he had ever heard. "I know you do, I'm pretty awesome."

Molly rolled her eyes but wrapped her arms around his waist. "I never thought I would ever hear you say those words Sherlock Holmes."

"And I never thought I would ever say them and mean it. But I do, oh Molly, if you only knew how much I mean it."

Molly sighed with content. "Come on, let's go eat. You can show me later just how much you mean it."


	6. The Proposal

**The proposal : **

"This is ridiculous!" Sherlock huffed, entering the flat. He rested the bags on the table and shook his dark curls to remove the snow.

Molly, who was in the middle of decorating their Christmas tree, turned around, a red Christmas ball in hand. "What is?" she asked, with a small smile, clearly humouring him.

"Everything! Why did you have to invite my brother for Christmas Eve dinner? Why did you send me to do grocery shopping on December 22nd, when you know I hate crowds? Why do people go do their Christmas shopping now? And, why did I not want to know the gender of our child?"

Molly set the ball delicately in the box and made her way toward Sherlock with a small smile. "One question at the time."

Sherlock huffed, resting his hands on Molly's very round belly. She was just over six and half months pregnant and Sherlock enjoyed feeling their baby turn and twist in her.

He pulled her beside him on the sofa.

"First, I invited your brother because he is family and, even if you think it is a trick, I think his support of us is genuine. I don't really have any family left and yours is quite limited, so let's make the best of it. Second, I sent you grocery shopping because you think that Christmas decorations are stupid and useless, and I know that if I'm not doing it, you won't either. And would you seriously like for your pregnant girlfriend to walk around in a crowded supermarket?"

"No," he conceded, pouting like a child.

"Third, why do people do their Christmas shopping now? Did you do your Christmas shopping yet?"

"No, but I didn't plan to."

Molly rolled her eyes. "You better buy something for Anna, Sherlock Holmes or-"

"Oh Molly, we both know you already did our Christmas shopping."

"And as for the baby I thought you didn't want to know."

"I know I said that. I thought it would be more intriguing to try and guess-"

"You are your mysteries." Molly shook her head.

"But it is not fun. I don't like referring to our child as 'it' and I don't like passing a store and not knowing if I should buy something or not. I don't like not knowing,"

"Okay." Molly stood up and grabbed a cell phone.

"Okay?"

"Yes, okay. You want to know, so let's find out."

"You don't mind?" Sherlock asked, still not believing how lucky he was to have Molly in his life.

"No, I didn't care either way. Let's go have an ultrasound now. We can make sure everything is fine and find out the baby's gender."

"But it's so short notice."

Molly scoffed. "I have been working in this hospital for eight years; give me some credit."

Within 90 minutes Molly and Sherlock were at the hospital, in an exam room and ready for the ultrasound.

As every other time, Sherlock was mesmerized by the image of their child on the screen and the steady heartbeat. If Sherlock was completely honest, he would admit that seeing this child grow in Molly had been magical, every little moment.

"The baby is developing well. The heartbeat is strong," the doctor stated, looking at the screen. "So if I understood correctly, you want to know the gender of your child."

"Yes!" Sherlock exclaimed.

"How could I refuse?" Molly said with a smile.

"Yes, I can see that being very hard. I can tell you that you're expecting a boy."

"A boy?" Sherlock grinned. "A little boy. Oh Molly, this is wonderful." He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Do you think they have deerstalkers for babies?"

"I thought you hated that hat?"

"I do but it became my trademark. The son of the world's only consulting detective needs to share that trademark."

"Maybe you should call your brother and tell him." Molly told him, as he called the taxi.

Sherlock sighed. "Why would you decide to ruin this perfect day by mentioning my brother? "

"Sherlock!" Molly chastised him.

"Fine I'll call him, later," he compromised, sitting in the taxi, hoping that she would forget it.

"I won't forget," she said, as if she could read his mind.

"So what about names? Do you have any ideas?" Sherlock asked, as they drove back to Baker Street.

"Yes, actually. I was thinking about Sequoia. What do you think?" She turned to look out of the window.

Sherlock frowned and grimaced. "I…ummm…yes. Well, maybe we should think a bit more." Not even over his dead body would he let his child be named something like that.

He finally noticed her shoulders shaking slightly with laughter. "You were joking with me!"

Molly turned around, her eyes shining with tears of laughter. "Of course I was! Oh, I loved it."

Sherlock glared but her small smile disarmed him. "You almost gave me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry," she dabbed her eyes. "No, but seriously, I thought about it and I really like the idea of calling him Thomas."

"That's your father name isn't it? I like it. I really do. Thomas it is. Thomas Holmes, I really like the ring to it."

"Middle name?" Molly probed. "What about William? It is your first name after all."

"Thomas Williams Holmes, boy genius. Yes, I quite like the sound of that."

Molly laughed rubbing her stomach. "You're getting a bit ahead of yourself."

Sherlock shrugged. "I don't care. I'll love him anyways. What?" he asked self-consciously, when he noticed Molly looking at him in slight awe.

"Well it's just, you've never said that before."

"What? That I'll love him? Of course I'll love him. Hell, I already love him."

Molly nodded. "No, I mean yes, I knew you would love him but,"

"But what?" he pressed, as they exited the taxi.

"Well, you're not one to express your feelings. I'm not saying that to judge or anything. I wouldn't want you any other way. I know you love me and I know you love our child. I am even sure you love your brother, in your own way, but you don't say it that often."

"I told you that I loved you," he countered, helping her out of her coat. He knew she was not pointing out his habits negatively, but he still didn't like being called out on his shortcomings.

"Yes Sherlock, once." She turned around, grasping his face in her hands. "And I don't need to hear it more than that." She smiled brightly, the way he loved to see her smile. "I'm merely explaining to you why I looked so surprised, but believe me I am one of those who think that actions speak louder than words. The way you are now and the way you have changed, it has showed me you love us, Sherlock. It's okay."

"Very well then. I'm glad you don't mind." He quickly kissed her forehead. "I do though, love you."

She smiled. "I know. Okay, now let me finish my tree would you?"

"You…want help?" he asked, silently begging for her to refuse.

Molly reached for a ball and shook her head. "No I wouldn't do that to you. I love you too much."

Sherlock let out a little relief sigh. "Thank you."

He pretended to get on his laptop but he was looking at her instead, beautiful glowing Molly. She thought he was not romantic and she was partially right. Except, that she didn't know what he had been hiding in his sock drawer for the past month.

Sherlock had been waiting for the right moment, wanting to make it count. He never believed in marriage, never thought he would be the one to want it, but the thing is he wanted that with Molly, for Molly. He was still not sure why she had chosen him; she knew everything about him, the good the bad and the ugly. She knew all his flaws and yet she was sharing his life willingly. He had wanted to wait until Christmas Eve to ask her to marry him, thinking it would be as romantic as in the movies she enjoyed so much. However, to be honest, now seemed like just the right moment.

"I'll be right there!" he exclaimed, jumping from his chair and rushing to their room.

"Okay!" she replied, with laughter in her voice.

"Molly, can I have a minute?" he asked, one arm behind his back, playing with the small velvety box in his hand.

"You will call your brother, Sherlock," she replied, turning around.

He waved his hand dismissingly. "Not relevant right now." He pointed to the armchair. "Please sit down it won't take long."

"Okay,"

Sherlock waited for her to be seated comfortably before starting to pace. "You see, Molly, I am not good with words. No, scratch that, I am very good with words but not with expressing feelings. As you know, I do not have much experience."

"Sherlock, if this is about what we discussed before I-"

"No, no, it has nothing to do with that, at least not really. The thing is, Molly, you've woken up things in me, basic and dare I say archaic things that I thought someone as evolved as me probably doesn't need, but I was wrong." Sherlock sighed. "I realized that I have never been more wrong than when I am with you."

"I'm sorry?" she asked.

"It's alright; I guess it does teach me some of this humility thing people think I need." He stopped pacing and swirled around to face her. "Marry me, Molly," he added bluntly, opening the box revealing the ring he picked out with Mary. "I know it's direct but it's me. I don't know how to wrap it in pretty words or flowery poetry. It is not who I am and I know it will sound fake. I just want you to become my wife. I love the person you are and the person you are making me become. I am a better man just by being with you Molly and that is, for me, the highest compliment. Marry me, Molly."

Sherlock could see the surprise and happiness on her face and he knew her answer before she even uttered the words.

"Yes, of course I'll marry you Sherlock!"

"Marvellous!" He knelt in front of the chair and tried to slide the ring on her finger, but it wouldn't go all the way. He frowned. "But that's impossible. I took one of yours. It has to fit."

Molly looked down at him with a soft smile. "I am pregnant, Sherlock. My fingers are swollen but it's alright look," she took off her chain and slid the ring on it. "I'll wear it like that for a few months. What do you say?"

"And when are we getting married? The sooner the better, I can try to arrange a marriage for as early as tomorrow. Mycroft can do it."

Molly shook her head. "No Sherlock, there is no rush is there? Let's have the baby first. I don't want to be a pregnant bride. We can organize something nice and have a springtime wedding. What do you think?"

"I guess we could. But can I tell to everybody we're engaged?"

"Of course you can and you know what? Since you have to call your brother, why don't you tell him first?" she added with a cheeky grin.

Sherlock sighed, getting his mobile out of his pocket. "Do you ever forget anything?"

Molly laughed and Sherlock couldn't help but laugh with her. He was about to have a son and he was engaged to probably the only woman he will ever love. How could he not feel blissfully happy?


End file.
